Bigger Scars make Better Stories
by Detached from reality
Summary: Max wants to forget her past, but when she meets Fang, she's pulled once more into a world she tried so hard to leave. Now, Max will have to confront her painful past. But maybe, she wont be alone this time. T for Language and older themes. FAX. no wings
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Hello world of Fanfiction! Well I must say, I've enjoyed writing this a lot! So much in fact, that I've already written a few chapters. Though I'll most likely just add one today and keep the others as sort of a safety net in case I get tied up in school or something. Anyways, enjoy! And thanks for takin' time to read the fic!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

* * *

><p>My life has never been one worth putting into stories. In fact, if you looked up the word 'Average' in the dictionary, it would most likely have a picture of my family next<p>

to it. I was born in a normal townhouse in the suburbs. We had cookouts every fourth of July and Christmas parties every winter. My mom was a vet and my dad was

science teacher. I had a sister named Ella, who bugged me to death, but I loved all the same, and a little half brother named Ari, who never left his dads side.

But last year, all of that changed. My life went from normal, to horrible in just days. And this beautiful picture I just painted for you guys—this happy life, happy

family—all fell apart. But I didn't. I _couldn't. _I had to stay strong, not for myself, but for my family. I had to be unbreakable Max, because if I gave up, they would too.

And I had a feeling, that if I wasn't strong, if I allowed myself to crack just a little, I would break completely in half. So I shielded my family from my feelings, hid myself

away from the world, not once daring to cry, to let myself feel the pain I had been holding in for a year now. To me, feelings just made me weak, unstable, vulnerable.

So, I just ignored them, hid them away, and swore to ignore the past. That is, until I met _him_.

-Max-

I pulled my hoodie closer to myself as I rounded the next corner, my combat boots splashing against the wet pavement. The sun was low in the sky, causing

the shadows to become long and dark. I had to get there quickly if I was ever going to get back before curfew. Just a quick trip, I told myself. I'll be there and back in no

time.

And to make sure that did in fact, happen, I decided to take a shortcut. The alleyway loomed ahead of me, dirty and forgotten. Most people wouldn't give it a second

glance. But I'm not most people. I knew the Alleyway was a shortcut to Able St., and going through it would save me twenty minutes at least. So, I started down the

narrow pass. My footfalls echoing off of the slime covered walls on either side of me.

It was an eerie sound, the rhythmic pounding of my steps. And after a while I could almost hear even more footsteps, coming from all around me. My body tensed up, my

eyes scanning the darkness around me. How had it gotten so dark so fast? Anyone could be lurking in theses shadows. Suddenly, a crash rang out in the alleyway,

causing me to whip my head around, my eyes searching the darkness behind me. Nothing. It was probably just a cat. I almost laughed out loud at my own obvious

paranoia. There was nothing to worry about! And even if there was, I could take whatever they threw at me…right?

Wrong. Seconds later, another sound echoed off the walls, the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked back. There's _no way_ that's an alley cat. I thought bitterly, as

I clenched my fists. Somewhere in the darkness behind me, I felt the cool metal tip of a pistol dig into my back.

"What? No witty banter? No shouts of 'give me all your money!' No cliché bad guy speeches?" I spat, sarcasm dripping, my mind searching for escape routes. Seeing

nothing, I knew I only had one choice. Fight.

Now, I'm not stupid enough to attempt to fist fight an armed man. However, if I could get the gun away from this lunatic, I might stand a chance.

"I ain't a bad guy," He said, his voice sounding disturbingly close to my ear. "You're trespassing, this is our territory."

The words shocked me for a moment. How had I been so stupid? Nudge had warned me about wandering through here at night! What had she said? Something about

territories being changed…I couldn't quite remember. And now I was stuck with some crazy man with a gun pointed at me...who was most likely a gang member.

This day just couldn't get better.

Note the sarcasm.

In a matter of seconds, he had my body pushed against the closest wall, the damp brick digging into my cheek. Now I had NO maneuverability whatsoever. Which

translates to: I have no way to reach the mans gun, Basically: We're screwed, kids!

I let out a small grunt as the air whooshed from my lungs, frantically searching my mind for ways I could get out of this situation. I found none.

"What exactly is it you want from me?" I choked, my lungs lacking air.

His grip on me loosened for a moment, before jerking me around to face him.

He had his hood pulled up, and I couldn't make out his face aside from his disgustingly wide grin. He had a chip missing from one of his front teeth, his smile mocking

and cold. I wanted to wipe that smile off his face. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palm in anger.

"You know what I want. You're in my territory…that means your—" I lunged at him before he could finish his sentence, a blind fury fueling my veins, my fist colliding with

the man's face before he had time to even process what was going on, let alone, pull the trigger.

His hands automatically went up to his nose, (which I could have sworn I felt break) the gun falling out of his grasp. My eyes followed it as it slid across the concrete,

every second seeming to slow down, and then, we both scrambled for it, each hand grasping the gun.

This fight was a dangerous one, I knew, as we fell onto the ground, each trying to pry the weapon from the others hands. A shot rang out, then another, this one

finding its target.

I screamed out and grasped my shoulder, feeling warm liquid gush onto my fingertips. My flesh felt like it was on fire. Seconds seemed to go on for hours as I

doubled over, my eyes wide, my body crying out in agony. I bit my lip and held in my screams of pain, refusing to let this low life hear me scream again.

The man, now on his feet, pointed the gun at me once more. He had that annoying smile on his face again, but I was glad to see his nose bleeding profusely, the

bridge turned at an odd angle. Yep, it was defiantly broken. This fact made me smirk. Ah, the little things in life.

"Stand up." He barked, his voice slightly strangled from the waterfall of blood pouring out of his nose.

Wincing, I did so, my free arm clutching my injury tenderly. I glared at him, trying to look intimidating, though in reality, I had a freaking gun in my face! So of course, I

was inwardly terrified.

The man cocked the gun once more, his finger on the trigger. Just one finger movement and it was bye-bye Max.

However, the man never pulled the trigger. He didn't get the chance.

**A/N: **

**Le Gasp! A cliffy! **

**Comments? Criticism? Flames are always welcome! I'd love you to help me become a better writer! So please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Hello all! First off,I'd like to say THAANKYOUU! To all of my beautiful reviewers. Your comments bring me joy! Im glad you like it so far, and thanks for the support and tips. This chapter doesn't have any weird spacing hopefully. I really dont know what happened there. O.o**

**Second, I'm sorry to say this chapter is shorter than i wanted it to be originally. However, now, im just glad Ive got it done at all. This weekend has been really, really weird, I called the cops on my neighbors... for a very valid reason, mind you. It wasn't for something stupid like loud music or junk. I honestly thought someone was getting hurt. Anyways, I wont go into anymore details out of respect for the person. But honestly, it thoroughly freaked me out. a lot...Anyways, I'm sorry if its not perfect, i really just need to take a mental health day. **

**_I dont own Max ride, JP does. _**

Previously:_  
><em>

_The man cocked the gun once more, his finger on the trigger. Just one finger movement and it was bye-bye Max._

_However, the man never pulled the trigger. He didn't get the chance._

Out of nowhere a dark figure appeared, his leg swiftly kicking the gun out of the thug's hand.

Where had he come from? I couldn't say for sure. In fact, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was like the shadows themselves materialized before my very eyes.

He was a flash of black in the alley, his fists lashing out at my attacker, who seemed practically helpless against the constant blows. The thug was knocked onto the ground by the black-clad figure, his filthy hands searching the dark asphalt for a weapon.

Then, I saw a glint of broken glass just behind him, and I yelled out in warning just as the man's hand found the glass, his smile once again returning to his face as he thrust the glass upward. It made contact, ripping the boys shirt, and tearing a gash in his skin. Luckily, he had maneuvered out of the way before any worse damage could be done.

He sent a kick to the man's head before he could get up, knocking him out cold.

Then, he turned to me and I finally got a good look at him.

He looked around my age, maybe a year older, with jet black hair, which fell haphazardly in front of his eyes. He was wearing a plain black tee-shirt, (which was now sporting a giant rip) slightly faded black skinny jeans, and black converse. But more than anything, I noticed his dark, bottomless eyes that bore intensely into my own.

"You know, it was pretty stupid what you did back there." The words slipped out of my mouth, before I could stop them, my expression becoming guarded, unreadable…or so I hopped.

And, as soon as they had left, I felt my walls come back up, my defenses returning as if they'd never left. Who was this guy? Why was he here? Why did he help me? Could he be involved somehow?

World, meet the Poster child of Paranoia.

The boy's face—which had looked impassive before—now looked slightly upset. Which, judging by the fact that he hadn't showed emotion since he showed up, made me believe he was thoroughly furious.

"Excuse me?" He asked through clenched teeth, his hands forming fists at his side.

"You could have gotten me killed if the gun had gone off when you kicked it!" I raised my voice, my body shaking from pent up adrenaline.

"You would have gotten killed if I _hadn__'__t _kicked the gun away." He retorted quickly, stepping closer to me, his midnight eyes boring into my own.

He was right, of course, but I wasn't willing to admit that, nor was I willing to give in to his argument so soon.

"It was reckless!" I shot back, now it was my turn to step closer, my eyes glaring up at him.

"Reckless?" he repeated, looking at me incredulously. "It was reckless roaming these alleys at night."

I faked a sigh then. "You're right. Roaming the alleys at night _is_ dangerous." I said, stepping even closer and batting my eyes innocently. We were mere inches apart. "So, why then, were _you_ out here?" I asked, sugar coating my words. I allowed a satisfied grin to spread across my face.

The boys face, however, paled. His expression gave away nothing, but I saw a hint of discomfort flash across his eyes.

Oh yeah! Score one for Team Max!

"Just thank me so I can leave." He sighed, directly ignoring my question. He obviously had something to hide, and me being…well me, I decided to pry for answers to my question.

"Thank _you_? In your dreams." I said snidely. "Besides, why would I thank some sketchy guy I met in an Alleyway? Who _knows_ what type of dirty business he could be doing out here!" I said, mockingly appalled. I was taunting him. Hoping, to squeeze more answers out of him. There was no way he could avoid this one! Then…

"Did you just accuse me of being a hooker?" The boy smirked.

My fists clenched, and I glared daggers at him, only to realize we were mere inches away. I jumped back, infuriated and mortified. The boy was smirking openly now, his chest rising and falling in silent chuckles. He was laughing at me! I racked my brain for something, _anything_ to comeback with, but came up empty. I, Maximum Ride, was at a loss for words.

Then suddenly, I felt dizzy, my vision becoming darker and darker by the second.

Eventually, I uttered a lame "…You're an idiot." Before falling to my knees, my hands covered in my own blood. That's_right_. I had been SHOT. It's surprisingly easy to forget these things when you're full of adrenaline.

The boy cursed from somewhere above me, and I could feel him hoist me up gently, his arms around me. I tried to brush him away, but my body refused to move.

I was fading fast, unconsciousness threatening to pull me under, and then it all went black.

Whether I was in the darkness for minutes or hours, I couldn't say for sure. Time was meaningless, nonexistent. It was a millisecond and a lifetime all at once. However, eventually, the darkness began to clear, and I found myself looking at an image, blurry at first, then clearer. A memory.

I was seeing myself, as if on a home video, smiling at the breakfast table, picking fun at my sister Ella for something I can't recall now. My mom was making fresh biscuits and bacon in the kitchen, and my dad was reading the Sunday paper. Ella was much smaller and she still had her braces. She was wearing her favorite David Bowie t-shirt proudly. I looked younger, and my hair was shorter, with less sun streaks.

There was something else different about me, about all of us. We seemed happier, more at ease. More _alive._

A little boy with short spiked up hair raced into the scene, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did so. He laughed at himself bashfully then, revealing two missing front teeth. _Ari._

With a jolt, I realized what day this was. My heart sped up painfully, each second hurting more than the last.

If I had been able to move in the blackness of unconsciousness, I would have wept. I hated this day. I hated it more than anything else in the world. This was the single day I have spent the rest of my life trying to forget. And now, I was stuck reliving it.

I felt as though my body was being ripped open from the inside out. I wanted to scream, close my eyes and make it all go away. This was killing me. It killed me more than the gunshot could have. That pain was NOTHING compared to this…this torture.

It was a nightmare. And no matter how much I wanted to wake up, I couldn't.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: **What do you think guys? I'd really love to hear ALL of your thoughts, good or bad! Help me become a better writer! **

**Much love, Cassie **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry about the delay! *Dies. I know its been a long time, but if you've actually waited this long, all i can say is...What on Earth is wrong with you? Haha. Just kidding! Thanks for sticking with me, and to show how sorry I am, I should be uploading the next chapter very soon. ****Thanks to all my reviewers and people who've supported this story (though its still in the baby stages) Much love!**

**Disclaimer:JP owns the characters, unfortunately.  
><strong>

I awoke to the sound of distant rock music and the smell of freshly cooked bacon. Needless to say, it was enough to pull me from the groggy darkness of sleep. Stretching, I went to prop myself up on my arms. A gasp of pain escaped my lips, shocks of agony shooting up and down my arm. Carefully, I lowered myself back down, last night's events suddenly flowing back to me.

The last thing I remembered was falling down, my arm hurting like hell, then…nothing. So where was I now? Panic pulled at my heart as I scrambled to find a light in the musty room. I was in a bed-that much was certain. I hoped there would be a bedside table next to it. Finally, my hands met cool the wood of a dresser. On it stood a lamp. Pulling the chain, the lamp flooded the room with light, exposing a small, four walled bedroom, filled with various band posters that were an obvious attempt to cover up peeling wall paper. There was a small window, but it was shrouded with back-out blinds. What time was it? How long had I been out?

I slowly rolled out of bed, careful not to jar my wound-which I could now see had been bandaged up quite nicely- and crept into the hallway. Rock music blared louder now, a song I recognized to be by My Chemical Romance booming from one of the doors across from me. I passed the door, and, following the smell of bacon, I made my way toward the kitchen, where a boy I had never seen before was occupied with cooking, his back turned to me.

A few feet away there was the front door. If I was quiet enough, I could most likely make it there and out before anyone noticed me. I exhaled, taking a step forward and preparing to make a run for it when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"I see you're finally awake." The cook said, turning around to face me, his pale eyes staring at a point a little bit about my head.

I nodded my head to him, slightly confused as to how he had heard me over the music. The boy smiled and reached out his hand. I just stared at it. What can you say? I'm just not much of a morning person. The boy smirked, and then turned back to the stove his hands feeling for the eggs next to him. Finding one with an 'aha!', the boy poured the yoke into the pan and stirred.

"My names Iggy." He said. "How do you like your eggs?"

Realizing my plan for escape was for the most part foiled; I sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. I was _starving._

"Sunny-side up," I replied him, adding with some hesitation. "and I'm Max."

Iggy smiled, and then turned back to making breakfast as if having an injured stranger in the house was totally normal.

"Well Max, I hear you got yourself into a bit of a mess last night." Iggy stated simply as he added another egg onto the skillet. I looked down at my bandaged shoulder with disgust. "Luckily, the bullet just grazed you. It wasn't too hard to patch up." He continued, causing my eyes to look at the clean, tidy wrappings around my shoulder.

"Yeah, Thanks for that." I told him, relief flooding through me with the knowledge that the bullet didn't cause much damage.

"No problem." Iggy said, the smile evident in his voice. "Fixing broken things is kind of my specialty…even if I can't do anything to fix myself." He laughed then, but I could almost hear bitterness in that laugh, a longing.

Before I could say more, Iggy turned back to cooking, humming to a tune as he did so.

As Iggy cooked, I looked around the apartment curiously. It was cluttered, with random magazines, books, clothes, and shoes scattered around the place. A window on the far side of the living room was open, a cool breeze blowing in. With the wind came the sound of police sirens.

Then, as if from nowhere, a figure flung himself through the open window and into the living room. Clad in a black hoodie and skinny jeans, I recognized him immediately. It was the boy from last night. Upon seeing me, his face broke into a genuine smile, relief momentarily flooding his features. Then, as soon as it was there, it was gone, replaced by a look of indifference. I almost thought I had imagined it.

"Fang." Iggy said as he turned towards us, placing eggs and bacon on my plate. "Good to see you've escaped your adoring fans." Iggy laughed, indicating to the window in which the boy-Fang- had entered.

Fang shrugged, and then made his way to the table, where he plucked up a piece of my bacon off my plate and stuffed it into his mouth.

I opened my mouth to protest, but was silenced as Fang spoke.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes searching my own, daring me to lie.

"I'm perfect. Just dandy." I snapped, sarcasm dripping. I mean, I had been SHOT, I wasn't exactly feeling like rainbows and unicorns here. However, He HAD basically saved my life, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I owed him _big time._

"Thanks," I added quickly, before I could change my mind. "I owe you one."

Fangs eyes flashed, but he just shrugged. "I'll keep that in mind..." He stopped short, and I realized he didn't know my name.

"Max." I said simply.

Iggy chuckled slightly and then looked towards Fang, a devious smile spreading over his face. To tell you the truth, it was kind of creepy.

"Fang here was worried about you when he first brought you in. You should have seen his face."

Fang grimaced in annoyance and shot Iggy the bird.

"I'm flicking you off, Ig." Fang specified.

I glanced at Fang curiously. Why did he need to tell him that? Iggy was looking almost right at him. Almost. The gears began to turn in my head, and my eyes widened.

I looked between the two of them, not really willing to voice my assumption out loud. Fang saved me the trouble.

"Iggy's bind." He stated simply, looking at his friend with an expression that could almost be pity, though the look was obviously lost on him.

A pang of guilt went through me. How hadn't I noticed sooner? What could I possibly say? I'm sorry? I didn't think that would cut it. I remained silent for a moment, searching for the right words.

"Oh… I didn't know", was my lame reply, and within seconds an awkward silence seeped in around us.

Nice job, Max. I scolded myself. Real smooth.

But Iggy didn't want my pity. "Don't worry about it", he laughed, standing up and moving over to lean on the kitchen counter. "I have many redeeming qualities that make up for it, like my sense of humor and my stunningly good looks." Iggy struck a mocking pose and Fang rolled his eyes.

"So where do you go to school?" Fang asked. I eyed him suspiciously, but let it slide. Never the less, these constant questions were making me uneasy.

"East." I answered simply, more focused on the looks the boys were exchanging than the conversation.

"That's about twenty minutes from my school." Iggy commented. Noticing Iggy had only said 'my school', My eyes went involuntarily over to Fang. What about him? Didn't he go to school?

He met my gaze, his expression a mask.

"I go to St. Thomas'." Iggy continued on, unaware of the silent battle Fang and I were having with our eyes.

The name rang a bell. It was known to be in a rougher part of town. In fact, a girl was shot about a block from there about a year ago. It was all over the news. The police suspected gang involvement. Though, with my experience, I didn't fully trust the cops, much less the public news. My mother, however, was in hysterics that day, because I had yet to come home when the news broadcast aired. She was freaking out, seeing as the girls description nearly matched my own.

My mom freaks out way too easily. _Especially _after what happened…

My eyes grew wide and I shot up out of my seat, only to jar my injured shoulder once more.

"My mom!" I exclaimed. "She must have been worried sick after I didn't come home last night!" I needed to get home NOW, before she flipped out too much. I began frantically digging through my pockets in search of my cell phone, hoping to at least call my mom, when Fangs hand shot out and grabbed my own, holding it in place.

"Don't." He said in a warning tone, his eyes boring into my own. "Think before you do something stupid."

"What?" I exclaimed, his words catching me off guard.

Fangs expression gave nothing away, but something in his eyes made me want to listen.

"How are you planning on explaining the _giant, gaping hole _in your shoulder to your mom?"

I stood in silence for a moment, my gaze lingering on my injury, as if an answer would come to me if I stared at it hard enough. Finally, I sighed in defeat, my mind having drawn a blank. My options were non-existent.

"I don't know." I sighed, clenching my fists determinedly.

Fang was right. I had no plan. If my mom found out about the shooting, I'd be locked in my house for the rest of my life…or at least until age 18. Either option didn't look good.

"Why not stay with a friend, someone you can trust, or maybe at a —"

"You could always stay here for a few days." Iggys said. My eyes widened, mental alarms going off once more.

"What?" Fang and I said simultaneously.

Something flashed behind Fangs eyes, and his jaw clenched slightly.

I stood up out of my chair, suddenly weary of my surroundings. I barely knew these people. Heck, I just met them officially this morning. I didn't know ANYTHING about them. How could I stay in their house?

The answer was simple: I couldn't.

But my best friend –the only person I could trust—was out of town…

"Only for a little while—until you can move your arm without screaming in agony. Your mom will never know." He added.

"Iggy. Think about what you're saying." Fangs voice was stern, warning. "We don't even know her."

_Um. Hello? Still in the room here, bro. _

But then again, he had a point.

"You let her in last night." Iggy told Fang, hoping to convince him.

"Last night she was bleeding out on the ground. She needed help, but-"

"How much damage can few more days do?" Iggy interjected.

"Enough." Fang answered, rising from his seat, and walking toward the window.

Iggy rushed over to Fang, and began whispering harshly, so that I couldn't catch what he was saying. Then, Fang said something back, motioning to me in frustration. Iggy retorted with narrowed eyes, and something like hurt flashed behind Fangs eyes for a moment, before his expression became stoic once more.

Anger boiled inside of me. How could they talk like this? I wasn't some lost puppy who needed a home. I was a _person_. I clenched my fists.

"Who says I wanted to stay here? I don't know _you_. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to." I snapped, loud enough for them to hear.

"Look. There's more at stake than just your shoulder." Iggy turned to me. His face had suddenly grown grave, his eyes pleading. It was as if there was something he wanted to tell me, but couldn't. Something important.

"Yeah? Well there's a lot at stake for us too, Ig." Fang cut in, opening the window in a single, fluid motion. "And I'm not going to wait around for this to blow up in your face. I'll be back when you come to your senses."

And with that, he jumped out of the window and onto the fire escape, the sound of his footsteps blending in with the noises of the city.

A few moments passed as I pondered over my situation. Despite my trust problems, I really only had one choice, if I wanted to spare my mom of a heart attack (which would defiantly occur, if she found out about my..er..wound).

I had to stay here for at least a few days. And now that Fang wouldn't be here to bother me, that didn't sound all that bad. But his sudden harshness towards me had been really strange. And..well, random.

"I'll stay." I told Iggy. "But seriously, what the _hell_ was up with Mr Moody? He brought me in, now he wants to kick me out. What was his problem?"

Iggy merely shrugged, his unseeing eyes aimed in the direction Fang had left.

"I guess it's easier to handle you when you're unconscious." He stopped himself, and grimaced slightly, as if afraid he had insulted me. "What I mean is, Fangs a good guy. He saw you needed help, and he gave it. He didn't want anyone to be hurt. In fact, in some cases, I'm sure he'd be fine with letting you stay for a while. However, he's kind of in the middle of something at the moment, and he doesn't want anyone to..." He stopped again, choosing his next words carefully. "…pry in his business.

"I would never do that. Why would I? What do I care about him?" my voice was steady, but a small piece of me told me I was lying. He interested me… just a little bit. Why didn't he go to school? Why was he in the alley at all? What was he trying so hard to hide?

"It doesn't matter if you would or not. Fangs paranoid. Simple as that. Let him run things over in his mind, he's got a lot to deal with. He'll be back by midnight tops." Iggy glanced at the direction of the window, and then towards me.

"Now," he said with a slightly mischievous smile. "Lets start working on what story to tell dear old mom."


End file.
